clip my wings and I'll tear your face off
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: This wasn't how Ginny had pictured herself getting married - because of a law she couldn't fight - but it would have to do.


Written for the Around the World Event: Madagascar - AU: Marriage Law, the Psychology Assignment: Write about marriage, (genre) angst and the National Princess Day Event: Anna - Frozen - Write about someone who performs an act of love.

 _Word count:_ 2775

* * *

 **clip my wings and I'll tear your face off**

The owl that delivered the letter had been a prissy thing that had stared at Ginny haughtily until she'd picked up the creamy envelope. It looked very official, but in a way that had Ginny's hair stand on ends. It also seemed to be made of the finest paper Ginny had ever touched—in fact, it was so fine she was almost scared to touch it, thinking that she could only ruin it.

Inside the envelope was a single piece of parchment, covered in elegant calligraphy. Ginny wouldn't have been surprised to find that the letter was scented, but she couldn't pay attention to any such details.

Instead, her stomach dropped as she read her letter.

It fell silently from her numb fingers before she was even done, her strangled voice calling out to her mother. " _Mum!"_

Had she had the voice, she would have screamed, but all she seemed to be able to do was point at her mother and the letter with a shaking finger. Her father and brothers had fallen silent, eyes riveted to Molly as she picked up the letter.

Molly's face drained of blood instantly. " _Arthur_ ," she let out in a panicked breath. Her hands grasped the letter so tightly the paper creased and her knuckles turned white. She passed the letter to her husband silently, and he, too, paled violently.

"Well, what is it?" Ron asked, mouth still half-full with his breakfast. For once, though, Ginny's nausea didn't come from that ghastly sight.

Before either of her parents could answer, she said, "I'm supposed to get married."

George's fork falls on his nearly empty plate with a loud noise at the same moment as Ron explodes with, "Are you serious? That's not—you can't just get married _now_!"

Ginny shrugs, a thin smile stretched painfully across her face. "According to the Ministry, yes, I can. In fact, I _have to_. Or they'll break my wand and banish me from the country."

"They can't do that, can they?" Ron retorted, incensed, face turning red.

Molly just bit her lips nervously and Arthur winced.

" _Can they?_ " Ron repeated, voice high-pitched as his eyes widened in horror.

Arthur sighed and grabbed Molly's hand, holding onto it like it was his lifeline. "There were rumors, at the Ministry, that something like this might happen. We didn't want to tell you until we knew for sure one way or the other, but…" He sighed again, looking down at Ginny's letter in defeat. "It seems like this caught up to us anyway."

Ginny laughs humorlessly. "I'd say."

Molly's face softens. She stands up and opens up her arms, saying, "Oh, Ginny, I'm so sorry—come here, we'll figure something out."

Ginny's eyes teared up as she folded herself into her mother's embrace, but try as she might, she couldn't blink away the blurriness in her vision.

"I don't—mum, I don't want to marry some stranger."

As her mother whispered soothing nothings into her ear, Ginny was vaguely aware of her father taking her brothers out to talk to them.

"We'll get you out of this, dearest, don't worry," her mother said when Ginny finally withdrew.

Ginny nodded mutely, swallowing past the hard lump in her throat and finding it hard not to start sobbing. "Alright," she managed to say.

She wasn't sure her parents could do anything—they'd never really had any sway in the Ministry, and even though they were all pretty much war heroes now, that fame was a double-edged sword Ginny wasn't sure would rather help or harm them.

.

The next few days passed in a blur. Ginny lived in a fog of emotions, never quite sure if she was more angry or terrified, but always aware of the growing pit in her stomach. With each passing hour, she could feel the noose tightening around her neck, her chances of getting out of this getting slimmer and slimmer.

The only good thing that came from this situation was that life had finally returned to George's eyes. It seemed as though the only thing needed for her brother to break out of his grief was his little sister being sentenced by some obscure new law the Ministry refused to elaborate on.

Her brother was coming back to himself, trying to cheer her up, but now it was Ginny who didn't know how to answer.

She raged at Hermione and begged her to help her try to find something they could do to stop this, and the bushy-haired witch weathered Ginny's temper evenly. Hermione agreed to pour over whatever books she could find, and from then there wasn't a moment where she didn't have some old dusty tome in her hands.

Harry, too, helped her—or he tried to. He held her when she felt like she was fraying at the seams, when she didn't think they were going to find a way out of this.

She hated it and loved it in equal measures. It meant everything that he would stick with her in this, that for once he wasn't running away.

But at the same time… At the same time, Ginny could see the way he looked at her sometimes, as though he was only waiting for her to slip through his fingers. It was a reminder of the ticking clock she was under—of the wedding she was supposed to be getting ready for, because the letters from the Ministry were still coming, each of them with papers it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Harry held her like their days were numbered, and there were times when Ginny couldn't bear that reminder.

Her parents were growing more desperate too. They thought she didn't notice, didn't hear, but their shared glances and the pursed lips that followed hushed arguments told the story well enough that Ginny didn't have to actually hear it.

"We'll make this work," Harry told her softly as they sat side by side on her bed. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she tucked her head against his neck, tying their fingers together slowly so she had something tangible to hang onto.

Ginny didn't reply, only burrowed deeper in his side, clenching her eyes shut. There, surrounded by Harry's warmth and the familiar smells of her childhood, she felt safe. Here, she could ignore the outside world and what was coming for her, if only for a moment.

Here, she could let herself imagine that this arranged marriage thing was just a nightmare.

But the two weeks the Ministry had given her to present herself to their offices were quickly passing her by, and they were getting no closer to finding a solution.

So Ginny let Harry hold her tight for once, and she prayed for a miracle.

.

There were only two days left on their countdown when Hermione burst in, hair and clothes in disarray. The Weasleys plus Harry were having breakfast in a scene oddly similar to that morning where Ginny had gotten the letter that sealed her fate.

For an impossibly long instant, Ginny thought Hermione was there to tell them that there was nothing she could do, that Ginny would have to marry whoever the Ministry considered a 'good match for her bloodline and abilities'.

The wide, manic smile on Hermione's face told her otherwise though, and Ginny's heart skipped a beat. The table fell silent as Hermione heaved, trying to catch her breath. As soon as she realized all eyes were on her, Hermione sobered up, and that was when Ginny realized that Hermione's smile had come from the thrill of discovery rather than that of finding a perfect solution.

The way Hermione fidgeted only cemented that opinion in Ginny's mind.

"Hello, Hermione," she said with a tired smile. "Good morning. Did you find something?"

Hermione nodded. "I have _something_ , yes," she replied, wincing a little. "It was pretty obvious come to think of it, I can't believe none of us thought of this before—you see, if-"

Ron chuckled. "Get to the point, Hermione," he said fondly. "Please."

"Oh, yes, of course. Sorry," Hermione replied, blushing a little. She turned to address Ginny. "Anyway, the point is, the Ministry can't force you to get married if you're already married."

"So your solution to her having to marry is to _get her to marry_?" Ron asked disbelievingly. "In what world does that sentence makes sense to you?"

Hermione winced but she rounded up on Ron with eyes blazing with anger. "Well, it's all I found! I'd love to see you do any better—tell me, _Ronald_ , what did _you_ find that could help Ginny?"

"Well, I-" Ron stuttered.

" _Exactly_ ," Hermione hissed between her teeth. "At least this way, Ginny can get a choice in who she marries." She turned toward Ginny, her face softening with sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Ginny, but it's really all I could find. I wish there was something more I could do, but without knowing more about the actual law or whoever you're supposed to marry, this was really the best I could do."

Whatever food Ginny had managed to ingest sat heavily in her stomach. "I understand," she said, trying to smile at her friend. From Hermione's flinch, it failed to convey the thankfulness she had been trying to show. "I really do appreciate it." She really does too. It hadn't been fair of her—of anyone—to expect Hermione to come up with a miracle, and yet she still had.

That it was the kind of miracle Ginny didn't actually want didn't really matter. She had asked for a solution, and she had gotten one.

"Excuse me," she said, standing up. Her chair scraped loudly as she left the table, and she would forever be thankful for the way everyone waited until she was out of earshot to start reacting to Hermione's announcement.

It wasn't cold outside, but the sky was heavily overcast, with dark grey clouds that threatened to open up and drown her in water. Ginny didn't care. In fact, she rather suspected she'd eagerly welcome a downpour right now. The rain would be a nice break from the tangled mess of emotions she was currently feeling.

She walked quickly and aimlessly, lost in her thoughts. Her only goal was to get away from the house and she fell into a run easily.

She pushed herself until her legs burned and her chest ached, and then she kept running a little while longer. She didn't even bother to check if anyone was around before she started screaming—had she taken her wand, she would have used it to hurl curses and hexes at rocks and trees too.

Finally, she fell to her knees, her rage exhausted. She hated that she was still relieved by Hermione's news—instead of having to marry someone against her will in two days, she now had those two days to find someone to marry. That was barely a choice at all, and yet it still lightened the dread that had been pooling in her stomach since she had first opened that damn letter.

 _Marriage._ What would that even be like? The only true example she had was her parents', but she didn't want to be her mother. She would die if she had to stay at home to raise kids like her mother had—and she would probably kill the kids too, since she couldn't cook at all, despite her mother's best effort to teach her.

As a kid though, she had thought she'd end up marrying Harry Potter. Of course, that was before she learned to know the difference between _Harry Potter_ and Harry—in truth, she preferred Harry to the made-up persona she had grown up with.

And yes, she was dating Harry now, and she even thought that she loved him—but marriage? That was such a big commitment, and less than a year ago, Harry had broken her heart because he thought he could protect her by leaving her behind. By treating her like she was a possession he had to keep safe when she, in fact, could take care of herself.

They were nowhere near the getting married stage, and yet there was no one else Ginny wanted to marry.

Merlin, this was such a mess.

There was no doubt in her mind that Harry would say yes if she asked—and that was if he didn't ask her first.

The thought brought a small smile to her lips. It was the first smile she'd had in quite a while—forever, it seemed.

That didn't change anything about the fact that it was way too soon for marriage, but it did show that maybe this way, at least, she wouldn't be miserable.

.

It started raining halfway through her walk back to the Burrow. The skies opened suddenly, and within seconds Ginny was drenched, her wet hair sticking to her face and dripping down her back, while her clothes grew cold and heavy on her back.

Harry found her just as she reached the edge of the property. He too was drenched, though his wet black hair somehow looked messier than it usually did. His glasses were fogging in front of his eyes, but they were surrounded by the odd glow characteristic of an impermeability spell. He had used it often enough in Quidditch that she recognized the spell that let him see through wet glasses.

"Harry?" she asked, stopping in her tracks in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you," he replied, shrugging a little. "I guess we should… talk?"

Ginny sighed, her shoulders dropping. "We should, yeah."

Despite their words, they started walking back in silence. Ginny's hand found Harry's easily and she slipped her wet fingers through his. The water made their palms stick to each other's, which was uncomfortable, but Ginny appreciated the warmth that came with it.

"I'm really sorry this is happening to you," Harry finally said. It wasn't the first time he apologized like this, but Ginny found that somehow, it meant more to her this time around.

"I'm sorry, too," Ginny replied. "You don't deserve this either. You shouldn't have to help me with this."

Harry snorted. "It's like I told you before—I don't have to, but I want to." His green eyes softened. "I love you, Ginny, and if there's a way for me to help you deal with this, then I will take it, no matter what. Even if it means that we, that we…" He stuttered, blushing.

"That we get married?" Ginny replied with a smile, surprising herself with how easily the words had come to her.

"Yeah, that," Harry agreed.

They stopped a few feet away from the Burrow and Harry suddenly took out his wand, casting a spell that stopped the rain from falling over their heads, creating a sort of invisible umbrella.

Almost despite herself, Ginny smiled. "You couldn't have done that earlier, huh?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. "I forgot. Sorry."

"It's fine. I was already soaked anyway," she said, shrugging with a smile. "The rain wasn't even that cold."

Harry smiled back. "If you say so. But anyway, I wanted to ask you—I know I don't have a ring or anything, and that this is pretty sudden, since you're on a deadline, but I was wondering…" He took a deep breath and knelt. Ginny's heart skipped a beat as she looked straight into Harry's eyes and found nothing but love and determination there.

"Ginny Weasley, would you marry me?"

The words tumbled out of her mouth before she even realized she had thought them. "Yes. Yes, I would."

Harry's smile as he stood back up was blinding. The happiness coursing through Ginny's veins warred with fear, and it was impossible to tell which emotion was the strongest.

She was pretty sure she should be relieved, and she was, but the fear seemed to poison her every thought. _What if_ , she found herself thinking, _what if this was the wrong choice and the thing that ended up destroying Harry's and hers relationship?_

 _What if making this choice_ — _the only choice they could, perhaps, but still a choice_ — _ruined them?_

"Or we could leave," Harry said jokingly. Ginny could see that he was more serious than he was trying to let on though, and the gesture warmed her heart. "I'm sure Charlie would welcome you in Bulgaria, or the Delacours in France. We could-"

Ginny shut him up with a kiss.

"I said yes," she said when they parted. Harry looked stunned and it made her laugh. "I meant it. We are getting married."

Harry swallowed heavily. "Alright, then. Let's get married."


End file.
